


Sam Winchester, Rest in Peace

by RavenWhitecastle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feels, Gen, Major character death - Freeform, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWhitecastle/pseuds/RavenWhitecastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I honestly have no idea why I thought it would be a good idea to kill one of my favorite characters. <br/>This was a little fiction I did that was really difficult to do. I love my hunter boys, so to kill one of them and leave the other behind was just torturous. It took me a few days to actually finish writing this. I had the scene in my head, but I didn't want to use OCs, because they take a little more development, so I just used Supernatural. This hurt to write, believe me. I hated putting Dean through this crap. But thankfully, in the actual show, Sam is not dead yet, and neither is Dean (although both have been more than once). There's no spoilers in here, I think, except maybe the death of their father and mother. I don't even know if John is still dead. I'm "not there yet." Warnings: Mild swearing (mostly from Dean's POV) and some MAJOR feels. I hope you enjoy the feels of this one. As much as it hurt, I'm glad I wrote it. I had to play "Isn't it Bromantic?" on repeat for the entirety of it's creation to get the right tone. Cry, have some chocolate, they'll be okay. (P.S. I've published Sam's death scene here: [link] MORE FEELS. BRING IT ON, BITCH.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam Winchester, Rest in Peace

There was no cemetery for Sam Winchester when he died. Just a little family plot behind a cabin somewhere in the woods. There was no priest to say the words and bless the body as it descended into the soil. Just salt and burn the remains. It was best that way. Sam died an honorable death, in the end.   
No, he hadn't. That was bullshit. Dean wanted to believe that Sam had died honorably. But really, it was pathetic. A hunt gone wrong, a slip-up somewhere in the exorcism, and Sammy was gone. Just like that. After all they had been through together.  
Dean had done everything he could. He'd tracked down the demon. He'd bargained with the son of a bitch. Then he'd killed it. Then he'd prayed. Hell, he had gotten down on his knees and he had begged and he had wept. But he had nothing to show for his efforts. Sam was gone.  
Dean would've given anything to trade his place with Sam's. He would have given up his soul and much more to get his brother back. He would have dived back into hell if it meant Sammy would live. But Crowley and the demon and everyone else told him the same thing. The same damn thing that made him want to scream and cry and curse the name of God. "It was just his time to go."  
A little over a year after the incident at Mount Horn, Dean visited Sam's grave. Grass had grown over the earth, and the cross had been worn down by the weather. It read, "Sam Winchester, Rest in Peace." Dean had cared underneath it the words, "Beloved brother, son, and hunter." He still couldn't believe that it was his brother under that cross. He didn't want to believe it.  
Dean approached the grave slowly with heavy footsteps. he wrung a plastic bag in his hands, worrying the edges with his nails. Clearing his throat, he muttered. "Castiel said, um... he told me that I might feel better if I talked to you, so, uh..." He trailed off before coughing again. "I didn't want to bring you flowers, 'cause that's not...." Shaking his head, Dean tried to manage a smile. "Remember how we used to play with those toy soldiers? When we were little, and we'd have wars on the dashboard? So, um, I brought you some of those instead."  
Kneeling down to put the plastic green men in front of the cross, Dean collapsed to his knees. Bringing a shaky hand to his face, he rubbed the wetness from his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, Sammy," he whispered, his voice breaking. "How am I supposed to go on without you?" His bottom lip trembled. "All of those years, together, all of those sons of bitches. We did all of that together, and now..." He stopped and ran a quaking hand through his hair, echoing "How am I supposed to go on?"  
His hands fell into his lap, and a single tear slid down his cheek. "I'm your big brother," he sobbed, drawing a shaky breath. "I'm supposed to take the fall. I'm supposed to be lying in a hole in the ground." Another tear. "Not you." With a sad smile, he joked, "I'm supposed to be haunting your ass." He laughed half-heartedly and choked on the lump in his throat.  
Sniffling, he said, "I saved you so many times. I lost track after the first year. Ever since you were a baby, I've been in charge of taking care of you. It was my duty," he hissed, throat and lips dry, "my duty to put MY ass on the line. Dad wasn't around. I raised you." His face contorted in anger and pain. "You were MY responsibility and now-"  
Dean couldn't hold back anymore. The sobs ripped through his body and he openly wept. Nothing he had ever experienced before- not hellhounds, not torture, not anything- hurt as much as this. His cries resounded through the forest like those of a wounded animal, primitive and raw.  
Silence descended on the forest. Dean sat, a broken shell of a man beside the grave of his little brother- one that he loved more than life itself. Tears mixed with earth and earth mixed with ash. When Sam had died, a part of Dean had died with him. When he buried Sam, he buried the hunting life with him. As Dean stood, slowly, painfully, and walked back to the Impala, he left behind the only life he'd ever known. The hunter in Dean was left at the grave. Dean would never again hold a gun or a stake or a bottle of holy water or even a Bible. Dean had grown up a hunter. He would die a Winchester, in a rocking chair in a cabin by a lake. When Death decided it was his time to go, he would see his brother, his dad, and his mother again.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote an alternate ending that featured Castiel, so here it is:  
> Silence descended on the forest. Dean sat, a broken shell of a man, beside the grave of his little brother- one that he loved more than life itself. Tears mixed with earth and earth mixed with ash. A gentle hand rested on Dean's shoulder. Castiel's low voice murmured, "I miss him too, Dean. But it's time to go."  
> Dean wanted to ask "Why?" or "What for?" Because what did he have to live for now that his little brother was gone? But he didn't have the strength to argue. He just sat, staring at the plain wooden cross with his brother's named etched in the grain. Castiel could only carry the wounded hunter, his eyes filled with tears, as he watched the man he'd admired, protected, even loved descend into darkness. As Cas guided Dean back to the Impala, Dean slowly left behind the only life he'd ever known. When Sam had died, a part of Dean had died with him. When he buried Sam, he buried the hunting life with him. As Dean stood, slowly, painfully, and walked back to the Impala, he left behind the only life he'd ever known. The hunter in Dean was left at the grave. Dean would never again hold a gun or a stake or a bottle of holy water o even a Bible. Dean had grown up a hunter. He would die a Winchester, in a rocking chair in a cabin by a lake. When Death decided it was his time to go, he would see his brother, his dad, and his mother again. Castiel would continue on, leaving his human vessel and returning to heaven, living life as an angel without a charge.


End file.
